The Detective's Daughter
by Rusty Tater Tot
Summary: Anya Gregory was a seemingly normal girl. She had a normal mum and dad, normal friends, went to a normal school, had normal clothes, lived in a normal house, listened to normal music, and basically just lived a normal life. To all eyes, Anya was a perfectly normal teenage girl. At least, that's what she thought...


Anya Gregory sighed in dismay. It was 6:00 o'clock on Friday night, and all her friends had gone to the movies. Of course, Anya couldn't complain. She knew she wouldn't be allowed to go, and she wouldn't want her friends to cancel the whole thing because of her, but _still_... Why did her parents have to be such _freaks_?!

Anya sighed again and threw herself face down on her bed. She shouldn't have to be so bored on a Friday night - not a fun-loving girl like her. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Why did her spring break have to be at the same time as Ariel's? Now all her friends were out partying for the weekend and Anya was stuck at home _again_ suffering through 'family time.'

A knock sounded on her door. Anya knew if her parents caught her pouting ("like a five year old," as her father said), she would be treated like a five year old - in other words, spanked, grounded, sent to bed early, etc.

"Come in," she said. The door cracked open, and Anya's older sister Ariel stuck her head in. "Hey, Yaya," she said. Anya inwardly groaned; she wasn't seven anymore, couldn't Ariel drop the nicknames? "I'm only back 'til Monday," Ariel continued. "I wish you'd come down and play a game with us. It isn't every week I get to come home from Uni."

Anya pulled herself off of her bed. She knew there was no avoiding the torture that was family game night. "I'll be down in just a second," she told her sister. Anya wasted no time in brushing through her waist-length curly brown hair. It was such a burden to her, but she refused to cut it. She was the only one in her family who had curly hair, and she would not waste it.

Everybody in the Gregory household had brown hair, but their hair was all stick straight. Anya didn't understand it, but she wouldn't question it - her hair was the only hair that wasn't boring.

A few moments later found Anya downstairs. She had turned her phone on silent and slipped it into her pocket before approaching the game room. She could hear her parents' laughter from down the hall. Taking a deep breath, Anya twisted the doorknob and entered.

Her parents were both in there, her father with his big blue eyes and an even bigger smirk on his face, and her mother with her gentle brown eyes and thin-lipped smile. Ariel was there, too. She, like Anya, had their father's blue eyes, and her brown hair was short and spiky. Then, of course, there was Arnold.

Anya's little brother was, in her eyes, a real nuisance. He was the baby of the family, even at twelve years old. He had the classic floppy brown hair and he was the one child with his mother's soft brown eyes. He was slightly chubby, but he owned it. He sat in the corner on his phone, undoubtedly texting some girl.

"Anya!" said Ariel. "You made it!" "Yes, Ari. All the way from upstairs," said Anya, sarcasm filling her word. "It was a struggle." Mr. Gregory laughed, a big, booming laugh, and Arnold scoffed from his corner. Mrs. Gregory was the only one who didn't say a word, but hers was a comfortable silence. She was quite an introverted woman.

"I'm glad you decided this was worth the effort," said Anya's father, motioning around the room. Although she had seen it millions of times, Anya looked around before she took her seat at the table.

It was a very ordinary room. The walls were an off-white colour, and there was a soft floral carpet on the floor. There was a telly, and a shelf filled with games of all types.

"Shall we play a board game?" Ariel asked the room. Her dad laughed. "More like boring game, am I right?" he asked, elbowing Mrs. Gregory. Everyone in the room laughed, not at the horrible pun but at how hard their father was trying to make their mother come out of her shell. She smiled gently.

"I'm glad you came down," she said to Anya, and then, over her shoulder, "Arnold get off the phone and come sit with us."

"Let's play Truth or Dare," suggested Arnold, an evil glint in his eye. There was a pause in the conversation, then Ariel asked, "Why not?" "I'll be the judge," said Mr. Gregory. Mrs. Gregory pulled her chair closer to the table, and everyone sat patiently. "I'll go first," said Arnold. "So... Ariel. Truth or Dare?"

Ariel paused for a moment, considering. After a second of thought she said, "Truth." Arnold smirked. "Who do you like better," he asked. "Mum or Dad?" Ariel opened her mouth. "Now, Arnold," she said. "That isn't fair." "It doesn't have to be fair," replied Arnold. "You asked for truth, so be truthful."

"I like them both the same," declared Ariel. Arnold laughed. "Really," Ariel insisted. "Mum is serious and sweet and she always knows just what I should do if I need advise, and Dad is fun and he always knows just what to say to cheer me up!" Arnold considered this for a moment. "Do _you_ have a favourite?" asked Ariel, sounding shocked. Arnold blushed just a bit. "Now, now," he said. "It's not my turn to answer a question."

"Yes, it is," said Ariel. "Arnold, Truth or Dare?" "Dare," replied Arnold triumphantly. Ariel's face fell, but a second later she was smiling brightly. "Wait here," she said before running out of the room. "Which one of us is your favourite?" asked Mrs. Gregory with a small smile in the silence that followed. "I dunno," he said quickly.

Ariel returned to the room holding something behind her back. "Your dare is to close your eyes, open your mouth, and swallow what I'm about to put in it," she told her brother. "What?" he asked loudly. "Are you insane? You'll probably poison me!" Ariel smiled. "Truth, then," she said. Arnold paused, then lifted his chin, opened his mouth, and closed his eyes.

From behind her back, Ariel pulled out a mustard bottle, a ketchup bottle, and a jar of pickles. Anya had to shove her fist in her mouth to stop from laughing. Mr. Gregory couldn't stop himself even with his fist in his mouth, and Mrs. Gregory was smiling, as well.

"Hold still," said Ariel as she dipped the pickle into the ketchup and then placed it on a mustard-covered spoon. She slowly lowered it into Arnold's mouth.

It took a while to clean up the mustard, ketchup, pickle and blood stains from the carpet, but in Anya's mind, it was worth it.

She watched as her brother tasted the three things he most hated, she watched as her brother attacked her sister, she watched as they finished the game, and, most of all, she forgot that she _wasn't_ watching a movie with her friends.

A while later, when Anya was huddled underneath her covers, she heard her door opening. Sitting up, Anya saw her mother's figure sillhoutted in the doorway. "We had fun tonight," she said softly. Anya nodded in agreement. "How do you feel?" asked Mrs. Gregory. Anya shrugged. "Not tired," she said honestly.

Mrs. Gregory smiled. "I'll tell you a story," she said. Anya grinned. Her mother's stories were insane, but they were perfect.

"Once, when I was little," her mother began. "My father decided to take me to the zoo..."

Anya listened as Mrs. Gregory continued to tell about how she got so interested in physics, which led her to work at the hospital St. Barts, which led her to meeting Mr. Gregory.

"Mum," said Anya sleepily as her mother finally stood up and started towards the door. She turned back to look at her sleeping daughter. "What did Gramps call you again? When you were little, I mean." Mrs. Gregory chuckled. "I've told you a thousand times," she said. "Tell me a thousand more," begged Anya.

Mrs. Gregory smiled fondly. "He called me Holly-the-Mooper," she said, making her voice sound funny. Anya laughed, and then sighed. "I wish I could've met him," she said sadly. Mrs. Gregory nodded. "I do, too," she said. "He was one of the finest men I've ever known." "Dad says that's 'cause you don't know many men," said Anya.

Mrs. Gregory smiled again. "I don't, but the few I do know are magnificent," she told her daughter. "What would Gramps call you if he were here now?" Anya asked. "Probably Molly Gregory. It is my name, after all," her mother said. "He couldn't leave out your maiden name," said Anya, sounding shocked. Mrs. Gregory thought for a moment, then shook her head. "You're right," she said. "He couldn't."

"So he'd probably call you Molly Hooper Gregory, right?" asked Anya, fighting the urge to yawn. "Probably," agreed Mrs. Gregory. She kissed her daughter on the forehead. "Now go to sleep. Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight, Molly Hooper Gregory," said Anya with a smile.


End file.
